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Unformatted text preview: Mona would eventually know this too, this relief, this release. But not immediately. She went down the long, high hall, and opened the front door. It had been a year since she'd gone down the front steps, except for the wedding, and someone had carried her then. There was no rail now to hold to. The banisters had just rotted away years ago and Alicia and Patrick had done nothing about it, except tear them off and throw them under the house. "My great-grandfather built this house!" she had declared. "He ordered those balusters himself, picked them from the catalogue. And look what you have allowed to happen." Damn them all. And damn him too, when she thought about it. How she had hated him, the giant shadow over her childhood, raving Tobias, hissing at her when he snatched up her hand and held it: "Witch, witch's mark, look at it." Pinching that tiny sixth finger. She had never answered him, only loathed him in silence. She had never spoken one word to him all of...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10